At Night
by KatyAniFrancy
Summary: The job offered to her by the Ministry should be a piece of cake for the great war-heroine Hermione Granger. Guess what? She found a ferret's hair in that cake. Now, this is something not really bearable.


**Title**: At Night  
**Summary**: The job offered to her by the Ministry should be a piece of cake for her, the great war-heroine Hermione Granger. Guess what? She found a ferret's hair in that cake. Now, this is something not really bearable.  
**Category**: Harry Potter  
**Genre/s**: Adventure, Humor, Mistery, Romance  
**Story Type**: Multi-chapter  
**Pairing**: Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger  
**Rating**: T (for future almost-mature-content, because everybody wants a bit of steamy-yet-left-to-the-imagination action, right?)  
**Disclaimer**: I do not own Hermione, Draco or any character of the book (I do, however, have a huge crush on Draco Malfoy).

* * *

**Act 0: Introduction**

It was dusk, again.  
She had lived this very moment many times before: the faint light fading into the deep velvety night, the silence coming down as a drizzle, descending lightly upon people. She used to love that moment of the day. And, due to the delicate tints in which the sky was painted, every night was different, yet they felt all the same to her.  
She had an appointment to attend, starting at dusk, and she never missed one of those particular dates scheduled by her secretary, back at her workplace at the Ministry. She had to take part in some "business transactions" in which she was required, no matter if she was sick to death or otherwise wounded: Hermione Jane Granger had to be there.  
It seemed a kind of joke to participate at those encounters while the day was beginning its journey toward the night: the chosen time had many meanings, a few discovered by her during the first appointments. First of all, dusk was a special part of the day for wizards and witches: enchantments of both light and dark magic were annulled by a neutral power that guaranteed success only to impartial spells, the ones done everyday to clean, heal, cook or write … simple, domestic tasks which usually brought no side-effects. It was easy to guess that choosing dusk was a simple yet valuable way to ensure safety for both the parties involved: it took only five minutes for the exchange to be completed, a reasonable and short amount of secure time always available, even in winter.  
The second hidden implication had been a little more complicated to find out for her – mind you, just a bit: she _still_ was bookworm Granger – and it involved, obviously, a book, chosen at random one night from the shelves of her little-but-still-very-much-furnished library. Its name was "A complete guide to Witchcraft of the Northern Countries" by Cassandra Mustanen, bought at a flea market in Diagon Alley a couple years before: Hermione had devoured it, memorizing as many information as possible. The main subject was the one specified in the title – truth be said, it wasn't really original – but the interesting bit was the way wizards in Scandinavia and Finland drove magical force from water and the moon at nighttimes, something which was considered overrated in the UK. She figured out that if ancient magic took strength from the sun or the moon, depending on which spells to perform, the only time which combined the two sources of power was dusk, because at dawn the earth was already purified from the influence of darkness. That seemed to be another reason for the swap to happen at that specific time, if it was intended: she was sure, though, that no meaning was casual, seen the people she was working with.  
Despite how serious could have been choosing the right time for the meeting, there still was a beautifully, ironical, cynical way in which life had decided to take a little revenge on the famous witch: this was the seriously funny – even if she was definitely not laughing – part of those encounters. She didn't complain at the beginning, even though she whined a bit with Harry about it, and she was not going to do it anytime soon: she was obliged to accept her fate by a full-binding contract with the Ministry of Magic.

The almost-night outside was breathtaking, particularly outstanding compared to the others, and while waiting she was watching in awe the stars already shining in the azure sky, the light leaving space to somber dark. It was about to be a shady night and she could feel in her bones her instinct telling her how risky it was going to get. Her inner self screamed at her brain to leave already and to hell the damned contract with the Ministry: she had enough trouble during her school times to be satisfied for the rest of her life. Regardless, she simply could not leave, being a curious and sometimes inappropriate Gryffindor: she had to know what was about to happen.

-Staring at the stars won't make you look like one, you know?-

-Being named after some won't make you as special as they are either, Malferret.-

And that was exactly the karma revenge she was supposed to bear twice a month: Draco Lucius Malfoy seemed to haunt her like an undesired and nasty ghost. He was the other party involved in the exchange and she had to admit that even her couldn't think of someone more appropriate than him to take the job: he was shadowy, cunning and _so_ irritating. Which human being better than him to smuggle illegal plants and herbs to the Ministry's laboratories? He provided them the stuff, they closed an eye on his "business".

-Ouch, feeling wounded in the pride Granger?-

-There's something not right in here, Malfoy. You can also tell, I know because you're not showing yourself , which is something you usually do just to flaunt how blond your hair is or how expensive are your robes.-

-So you _are_ wounded in your pride.-

-No way. Let's get finished fast.-

-I never finish fast … you should know that I actually last pretty long.-

-I cannot say. Thanks goodness I do not have had any experience like that with you.-

-But you're longing to have one, I'm sure. Goodnight, belle-de-nuit.-

With that, he disapparated leaving a small packet in her hand: she knew it wasn't the end. Her instinct never got it wrong, therefore it simply _couldn't_ be the end.


End file.
